


Apologizing

by JesterDala



Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesterDala/pseuds/JesterDala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So this means you're not gonna mess with me anymore?” </p><p>“No, I'm still gonna mess with you. I'm just gonna apologize every few years so I can start fresh again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologizing

Freddie was hunched over, almost curled around his drink. His feet scuffed the floor under the table as he leaned back and stretched out his legs. The hum of the room seemed to engulf his whole body as he opened himself up to it. A pleasant buzz settled inside him.

Freddie wasn't even sure where he had ended up. His walk had taken him far from his lavish home, and he'd somehow stumbled into this place. He couldn't even be sure if it was a bar or a restaurant since he'd been paying so little attention when he wandered in. His stomach grumbled, and he wanted nothing more than to order something, but there were no menus in sight. Freddie didn't want to look like a fool trying to order a dinner somewhere they didn't serve food. The drink had just appeared next to him at one point as he was looking down at his watch. Maybe he should have questioned it, but instead he dove right in.

That was a mistake he'd been making a lot lately. The short blonde crashing at his place was a testament to that.

When Sam Puckett had shown up on Freddie Benson's doorstep earlier that evening, pushed her way inside and flopped down on a plush sofa, Freddie had barely been able to process what was happening. The stuffed backpack, the brusque manner, the easy curls all brought him back to high school, the place he'd last seen Sam before he went off to college and the iCarly gang all split to go their separate ways.

Carly had gone to state school and kept in touch with both Freddie and Sam, making sure she called or e-mailed them at least once a week. "I want to make sure the distance doesn't break us up," Freddie remembers her explaining once to Sam, still sporting her work nametag. Sam had never been one to put any actual effort into anything, especially something like a job, but she hadn't really had a choice when her mom threw all her stuff out onto the lawn one day and wouldn't let her back in until she came back employed.

Freddie had gone across the country to New York to attend a prestigious university where he could cultivate and make good use of his technical skills. In his spare time, he'd tinker with programs and websites and produce his own creations just for something to do. He didn't know anybody in New York, and as nice as the calls from Carly were, they had stopped reminding him of home and instead just reminded him of how far away he was. Eventually, he stopped picking up his phone.

Freddie threw himself into school just to keep his mind occupied, and halfway through his junior year it all paid off. One of his side projects, a website promoting indie bands around the campus, took off. It expanded to beyond just his school, beyond just New York to cover nearly every college in the US. It became an online mecca for everyone who wanted to know the hottest local independent bands, everyone too "cool" to listen to anything too mainstream. Sure, it wasn't Freddie's thing, but he couldn't argue with the profit it was bringing in. By this point, he hadn't talked to Sam since graduation, hadn't been in touch with Carly for about three years, and he'd almost gotten to the point where that didn't hurt anymore. He had gotten himself a good job, set himself up for life with a successful website, and his life was just beginning.

That had been enough for almost six years. Any thought of iCarly and his old group of friends hadn’t occurred to Freddie in the longest time. Nothing could have prepared him to open his front door to see Sam barge in like she owned the place. It felt like a punch to the stomach. It felt like high school back home in Washington all over again. He was suddenly the nub in a polo again, and Sam was the tough girl who put him in his place. He was suddenly awkward in his own home.

"I need a place to stay," Sam said simply, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up onto the sofa. All of a sudden, Sam looked around like she had just noticed how high the ceilings were, how open the living room was, how nice the leather sofa felt underneath her. "Nice pad you got here, Fredward."

Some things never changed. Freddie almost expected to see Sam smirking up at him, Fat Cake in hand. But instead, it was an older woman, more curves around the waist, more angles in the face. And her hair. All of that hair was gone. What was left was a short length of curls that fell to her shoulders and bobbed when she moved her head. It was startling at first, but Freddie thought it suited her.

Before he could stop himself, he asked, "For how long?"

At that, Sam spun around from examining the room and looked him right in the eye. "That's it? No what or how or why am I here?"

Freddie thought for a moment, considering. Would those answers really change anything? She wasn't going to leave, even if he told her she couldn’t stay. There's no way she'd changed that much. And more than that, he wasn't going to kick her out. He had a big house, more than enough room for company, and she was an old friend in need. In desperate need, if her showing up at his house of all places meant anything. Her face was drawn, there were dark circles under her eyes. It looked like no one had given her a break in years.

So Freddie ignored her question, walked over and picked up her bag instead. "I'll take you to your room," he said, starting toward the spiral stairs.

Freddie didn’t glance behind him, but he heard the sound of movement from the couch then the quiet pad of feet behind him. He had expected Sam would follow him, but wasn't expecting the small hand on his shoulder. It stopped him in his tracks. Even after all this time, she still had the ability to stop him cold.

Freddie turned to look over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before any words could come out, his lips were covered by Sam’s moving over his own. Any coherent thoughts he might have had disappeared. Her hands moved over his shoulders and his neck. She was warm and kinda rough and this wasn't like kissing her on his balcony ten years ago. This was better. This was like finally remembering that word on the tip of your tongue you can’t recall that drives you crazy.

Sam broke away, but left her hand on the back of Freddie's neck. She tugged on the hair there until it hurt then released it all at once. "We hadn't apologized in awhile. I had to make up for it."

Freddie just blinked, no words left in him to say, as Sam grabbed her bag from his limp arm and made her own way upstairs. As he turned to follow, unsure of what havoc she might wreak by herself upstairs, he thought that maybe that was Sam's way of saying thank you.


End file.
